Someone grabbed my arm, slamming it hard against the railing; the Child hit the railing with a sickening sound, releasing my hand; momentum carried it over the edge, and it fell.

“Oh, God,” I said, torn between laughter and horror as the Child tumbled through the air seventeen stories down, striking railings as it fell, nausea roiling as I dragged my maimed hand up to my chest.

“Go down the rope, Sean,” Indigo said mildly, standing with his sword out and surrounded.

My hand throbbed. There were indents in my skin where the Child had bit down, and I wasn’t sure I could close that hand. But I grabbed the rope, made a loop the way Tamara had done, and stepped out into open space.

My grip on the rope was weak at first and I slid down it, fibers tearing the flesh from my palms, before I got my ankle in a loop and had myself braced. Then I lowered myself as quickly as I could, because Indigo was up there alone and I knew he wouldn’t come down until I reached Tamara.

My heels hit the platform with jarring force. “Pull your knife, Sean,” Tamara said, and I turned to find her with her club out, facing three Children with their heads held low like snakes. One of them saw me and hissed.

I stepped away from the rope and fumbled to pull my borrowed knife from where I’d tucked it away in my belt. I got it out just as the Children rushed Tamara.

She didn’t want to hit them. She kept pulling her blows, flinching back. She didn’t want to hit them, and they knew it. They got right in around her, and one of them got in past her reach, and I saw its jaw clamp down on her thigh.

That seemed to trigger something in her. Tamara grabbed the little girl by the hair and dragged her off her, threw her to the ground, and then slammed the club down. The Child hissed up at her in the seconds before the club impacted her face, crushing flesh and bone, breaking it down into red.

Indigo landed like a falling star, took two steps onto the platform, and swung his blade. The other two Children hunting Tamara fell, bleeding, and Indigo stepped into the midst of them, cool and remote and gleaming, a Minister murdering, and nearby a little blonde girl lay on her back with her face caved in.

CHAPTER FIFTY:

The Bodies of the Past

I wasn’t on Kystrom. I knew I wasn’t on Kystrom, and I knew Indigo hadn’t been the one to kill Brigid. I knew that.

“Nice idea with the rope,” Tamara panted. She patted me on the shoulder. “Now we need to get out of here.”

Indigo, standing between the corpses, looked overhead. I heard the patter of footsteps on the stairs, uneven and intermittent, and when I looked up a hundred little shadows with dark eyes watched us from overhead.